golden. [harlan]

They were Indian. Harlan had to remind himself what Erika was even referring to despite the fact that his fingers were still holding up the delicate gold pieces (a real juxtaposition) off her kneck that he was already veering dangerously close to. All he needed to—

As if she could read his mind— he still wasn't entirely convinced that she couldn't— she inclined her neck slightly as if to invite him closer, impossibly It was at that moment that the rest of the details went out the window. Somewhere in the back of his head was a voice reminding Harlan who he was dealing with and the repercussions that would come with taking out whatever the hell was going on with him on her, though it seemed more distant than before.

His eyes snapped up when she spoke again and anticipated that she might articulate the thought that he imagined they were both having— that they should stop. Instead, her mouth was on his and his hand was roughly pushing off her blazer, her hands cold on his skin under his shirt, at the waist of his pants.

———

"Fuck," Harlan murmured to himself as he hazarded a glance to where Erika had made her away from the couch, to the kitchen, or to the bathroom he wasn't sure. He ran his hands through his hair, more tangled, before eventually pulling his shirt back up and over his shoulders. The air in the room had shifted. It was different from when she arrived, and from when she was there and from when they were—

He hadn't intended for that to happen. Harlan stood up to step back into the rest of his clothes before she reappeared. 

Erika frowned at her reflection in the mirror before she sighed. She had no idea what that was. A mix of confusion and guilt swept over her as she reached her hands to work the knots out of her hair with her fingers. Harlan was going through something and she couldn't help but feel like she'd taken advantage of him. She wasn't a wild woman - she had control over her carnal desires but that had happened so organically, it seemed to blind side them both.

The bathroom seemed safe as she washed and dried her hands, her eyes running over the various containers and jars in Harlan's bathroom as she leaned towards the mirror and picked a stray eyelash off her cheek. What had she become? Some kind of hussy? Someone who invited herself over to mens' apartments, drank their alcohol and kissed them on the sofa? If only he'd been a grown up and told her what his problem was, they never would have gotten into this mess. But it wasn't really his fault, either. It took two to tango. Her stomach lurched.

The thought made her shudder and she turned away from the mirror, disgusted at her own face before she inhaled quickly and opened the door. Her hands were behind her as she fastened the clasp of her bra and zipped up her trousers, trying to untangle the pile of clothing that she'd scooped up off the floor in panic as she padded barefoot back into the living room and hovered awkwardly.

"Hi," she announced her arrival to Harlan with a quick, brittle smile. Averting her eye, she stopped and picked up her blazer before shrugging it on. "I'm going to --" she trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his front door as she informed him of her desire to leave.

Belatedly, Harlan's gaze followed to where Erika had gestured toward the door. He could have guessed where that statement was going even without the obvious visual cue. He studied the door frame for a moment before his eyes flicked back to wash over her with more ease than he should have been permitted. Despite his best effort to alleviate the tension in some way, there was no mistaking that the air between them had shifted. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to act around her— it was Erika for Merlin's sake.

"Right, yeah,"  He wasn't pressed to fill the gaps in conversation with rambling, that wasn't in his nature, no matter the circumstance. "Are you—" Alright? Sure? Harlan had stepped away from the couch and was adjusting his shirt at the bottom to cover his torso in full.

"Alright to get home?" Harlan asked none of the questions that he truly wanted to and instead provided her the easy out. The last thing he wanted to do was make Erika more uncomfortable than it seemed she already was. Having already subjected her to the highs and lows of his depravity when in the midst of freefall, he figured he had done enough for one night, anyway. He glanced to the floo powder stored above his fireplace on the opposite of the living area before turning back to her.

Fin

"Hm?" Erika asked, distracted, her head jerking upwards at Harlan's question. He left it hanging in the air before he corrected himself. Was she alright? No, she was not. With her hand on the nearest wall, she slipped her shoes back on before she buttoned her blazer, pulling it down by the hem with more force than was necessary.

"I'm fine," she said with a quick smile that felt foreign on her face, thankful that Harlan hadn't given her the option of staying. "I'm going to walk," she announced, politely shunning the horror of using the floo network. She was feeling queasy as it stood, so the idea of zipping around uncontrollably was a bad one. "To Kitty's," she went on. Erika's apartment was in Paris but given the situation, she'd happily swim the English Channel to get away. She wasn't actually going to their mutual friend's house. Erika turning up on her doorstep when it was dark was sure to ring alarm bells.

The tall blonde hesitated before her legs decided to move and she strode to the door before Harlan could stand. Opening the door, she paused, an odd look on her face. "I'll see you," she told him, probably as some godparent-related event because they couldn't be trusted to socialise without supervision, apparently.

Giving Harlan what she assumed was a cheery wave, Erika closed the door behind her with a bang! before crossing the corridor to the lift. She pressed the button and waited a whole two seconds before pressing it again, growing irritated and letting out a sigh of relief as she stepped in and the doors closed behind her, enveloping her in velvety silence.



[done]